


yuletide by the fireside (carols everywhere)

by Lysippe



Series: The Worst Witch 2018 Winter Fluff-A-Thon [19]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, day 18: singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 23:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17068820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysippe/pseuds/Lysippe
Summary: “I convinced Miranda -- Hearthstone, our chanting mistress -- to teach me, years ago now,” Pippa said, and Hecate would have sworn that she heard something akin to nervousness in her voice. “Not much, and I’ll certainly never be half the musician she is, but I like to maintain some level of proficiency in the subjects we teach here, just in case I ever need to step in for a spot.” It was with a meaningful look in Hecate’s direction that she said, “All those potions study sessions we used to have, have saved our skins on more than one occasion. I dare say I would never have understood the subject at all, otherwise.”“Are you suggesting,” Hecate said slowly, a teasing glint in her eye, “that I should find this ridiculous endeavor… educational?”“No, darling.” Pippa’s laugh was light and tinkling and warm, her eyes full of mirth. “I’m suggesting that you might find it fun.”





	yuletide by the fireside (carols everywhere)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I really like inserting little nods at Pippa low key still being taken as kind of a joke in the upper echelons of witching society into my fluff fics, because I'm just that kind of person.

Chanting had always been Pippa’s strength. 

It wasn’t that Hecate wasn’t perfectly capable, and it certainly wasn’t that she was in any way tone-deaf. But Pippa had always been the creative one, the artistic one. The one who could express herself, even through abstract methods such as music, which were best appreciated by others who shared an appreciation for it.

And Hecate, to put it quite plainly, did not. As adequate as she had always been in the musical arts, no one would ever have mistaken it for talent, and certainly not for enthusiasm. Which was why, when Pippa had, in a tone that Hecate found almost offensively pleading, suggested that they sing Christmas carols --  _ ‘like the ones we would prepare for the Yule concert in school, don’t you remember?’  _ \-- Hecate’s reaction had been somewhere between disgust and horror.

But Pippa was Pippa, and Hecate was Hecate, and Hecate had never been any good at denying Pippa anything. Which was how she had ended up sitting primly on Pippa’s overstuffed couch, hands folded in her lap, while Pippa plucked gingerly at a guitar she had pilfered from the chanting classroom. (Hecate had felt decidedly pleased with herself for not bringing into question what a  _ guitar,  _ of all instruments, was doing in a chanting classroom.) 

“I convinced Miranda -- Hearthstone, our chanting mistress -- to teach me, years ago now,” Pippa said, and Hecate would have sworn that she heard something akin to nervousness in her voice. “Not much, and I’ll certainly never be half the musician she is, but I like to maintain some level of proficiency in the subjects we teach here, just in case I ever need to step in for a spot.” It was with a meaningful look in Hecate’s direction that she said, “All those potions study sessions we used to have, have saved our skins on more than one occasion. I dare say I would never have understood the subject at all, otherwise.”

It was true enough that Pippa lacked Hecate’s natural flair for the art of brewing potions, but Hecate would never have classified her as beyond hope. Beyond interest, perhaps, but Hecate remembered quite well how easily potions had come to Pippa once she had begun applying herself.

“Are you suggesting,” Hecate said slowly, a teasing glint in her eye, “that I should find this ridiculous endeavor… educational?”

“No, darling.” Pippa’s laugh was light and tinkling and warm, her eyes full of mirth. “I’m suggesting that you might find it fun.”

“I very much doubt that,” Hecate said primly. “But I did agree to this nonetheless. Even if it was due to… questionably fair methods on your part.”

“I would hardly call asking nicely in any way unfair,” Pippa retorted, looking mildly put out at the insinuation that she had somehow conned Hecate into anything. “Unless,” she added teasingly, setting the guitar aside and sidling up to Hecate, leaning in until their bodies were pressed together and Hecate could feel the warmth of her skin pressed up against her own coldness, “you’re suggesting that I manipulated you using my  _ feminine wiles _ .”

Hecate snorted in what she felt was a wholly undignified, but rather appropriate manner, given the topic at hand. “I am suggesting that you are fully aware that I have a well-documented history of not being able to deny you much of anything when you ask for it in a certain way. And that  _ you  _ have a well-documented history of using that to your advantage.”

“I’m quite certain I don’t know what you’re speaking of.”

“And I am quite certain that you do,” Hecate argued. “Because I am equally certain that you do not go around giving everyone doe-eyed looks whenever you ask for something. It would be a terrible choice, no one would take you seriously.”

“No one takes me seriously, anyway.” It was said with a lighthearted shrug, an easy smile that Hecate recognized was instinctual from years of rubbing elbows with reluctant donors, charming anyone who would listen to her into giving her what she wanted, what she needed. Socialization had always been one of the more impressive weapons in Pippa’s arsenal, but Hecate had known her too long, was far too intimately acquainted with the minutiae of Pippa’s tones and expressions, and she heard the tension behind the words immediately. Knew the years of scorn and ridicule that Pippa had faced when setting up her school. In working towards ensuring that her students were given one of the best educations that witching England had to offer, no matter her unconventional methods.

“Well, that’s their loss,” Hecate said with finality, hoping that Pippa, as she always did, would understand the meaning behind the words. All the things Hecate left unspoken. “Now, do hurry up and start playing that godforsaken thing, so we can be done with it already.” She gestured vaguely at the guitar, but her tone and expression had softened, mellowing out into a not wholly unpleasant sort of resignation. 

“Whatever you say, Hiccup.” But Pippa looked pleased, Hecate thought, at the affirmation. However small it may have been. However many words it left unsaid. Pippa understood her, spoke her language -- sometimes better than Hecate herself did -- and accepted it for what it was. “Now, what do you say we start with  _ Silent Night _ ?”

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on Tumblr @ thebestdressedrebelinhistory


End file.
